Just Say When
by Little Blue Owl
Summary: "If you ever want any more ballet lessons, just say when."


Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu or any of its original plotline or characters.

AN: I really enjoy coming up with titles to match ideas for stories. This one in particular kinda took a turn of its own. I had imagined the title to be the basis of a romantic, adorable oneshot. Not really. Not really at all. Anyway, this is sort of a companion piece to Umbrella, but you can read this whenever. Enjoy!

Just Say When

"If you would just hold still-!"

"I can't! Maybe if you weren't squeezing so tight-!"

Fakir held Ahiru's waist firmly trying to hold her straight. Her new baby blue pointe shoes were strapped on a bit too well, hugging her petite feet. Fakir was grumbling about how on earth she was Princess Tutu, even now after the story was done.

"Your feet aren't positioned right. You have the tilt them up more," Fakir guided roughly, agitating the girl to the side of him.

"I'm trying, Fakir! It hurts!" Ahiru replied, tired of this banter between them. He didn't know everything about ballet! She was the one who was an expert! She just couldn't seem to get these same moves right as a normal girl.

Fakir and Ahiru were looking at each other in annoyance now, waiting for the other to back down. But being the headstrong beings they were, neither wanted to accept the other's faults or flaws.

Finally Fakir spoke. "You should take a break. You're just exhausting the both of us."

Ahiru, although angered, complied, letting him leave his hands from her waist and lowering her feet to the wooden floor. Everything was easier as a duck, she thought, and you couldn't get mad at Fakir for being such a jerk when all you did was swim, eat, and sleep.

She untied the ribbons on the beautiful shoes, placing them on the ground by the door. Fakir was busy already making tea in the kitchen silently, though the air between them was harsh and full. It was all to common that these arguments might happen, always over little things like taste in food, Ahiru sneaking in to read Fakir's stories, or even the weather.

Ahiru gently sat down on the couch, turning to look outside the window. The chilly morning air outside the house bit the outside of the house and A little daffodil was peeping up in the grass by a tree in the midst of the nearby shops. It's small yellow petals shone brightly in the sun as the town woke up around it.

So lost in the world outside, Ahiru didn't notice Fakir offering her a cup of tea behind her until some hot brew spilled onto her arm. Yanking it back in sharp pain, Fakir looked at her sheepishly and only slightly sorry.

"Here, take some," he grumbled, watching the tea flow down her arm.

"Thanks!" Ahiru said brightly despite the warm patch on her skin and the previous argument. Despite her hot head, she wasn't one to hold a grudge, and the girl knew all too well about clumsy mistakes.

The two sat there drinking their beverages for a while, observing the world around them and each other.

After the long while of quiets Fakir broke the tension. "You know, when I was first learning to dance I wasn't very good, either."

Ahiru almost protested at this accusation of her skills before realizing that might disrupt the probably soon heartfelt conversation. Instead she let curiosity speak for her.

"You were?"

"Yeah," Fakir admitted. "I could never keep my balance up. Flexibility wasn't really a great skill of mine, either. Then when I realized how Mytho was so good, I decided to try and do what he did, watching him do the basics then move on to harder things. With practice, I had the amount of talent that he did."

"So how did you get so good at the basic motions?" Ahiru asked, knowing that she had the same troubles as he had.

"I did them again and again," he said. "Something that you might want to try." At Ahiru's hardened expression he laughed. Her cheeks softened, then she got up and turned around to face the door.

Fakir watched as she picked up her pointe shoes and bring them over to the couch. He then leaned down the help her put them on, her face moving up to face his in surprise.

Fakir helped Ahiru up, then watched as she attempted to do the standard practices perfectly. As she fell over on one, Fakir spoke.

"Here," he said. "I can help."

He moved her to stand up straight then attempt at moving her toes upward and downward.

They continued like this, not as serious as before. The people started milling about around their house, going on about their lives.

The two eventually got tired of practicing, lowering themselves to sit at the table in the dining room.

"You did okay. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually," Fakir said the cheery girl, noticing her face turn to a cherry red shade.

"You're not the only one who knows ballet, you know," Ahiru pouted. Fakir knew all too well what she meant, though he didn't enjoy thinking about it.

He got up. "If you ever want any more lessons, just say when." Then he walked out.


End file.
